


The True Monsters Walk Amongst Humans For They Are The Same While We Are Forced To Hide In The Shadows Always Being Blamed

by Whovalanche



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 1960s, Dark, Discrimination, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Original Character Death(s), War, mention of Holocaust, mention of drugs, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:00:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whovalanche/pseuds/Whovalanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lives of four friends...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aubrey Cynburleigh October 31 1932

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these awhile ago I don't know why I never posted them...Oh well it seems appropriate since I've been on an x-men kick for two days...Just saw Apocalypse, so you understand what I mean (: 
> 
> Warning: This story is a bit dark in some parts but also quite humorous as well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salem: Aubrey Jane Cynburleigh   
> Born: Edinburgh, Scotland on October 31st 1932  
> Family:   
> +Mother: Ailis Morgayne Merdachan- Cynburleigh (Scots Irish) is a nurse from Edinburgh, Scotland  
> +Father: Tristan Jasper Cynburleigh(English) is a doctor from London, England  
> +Siblings: Only child...[I'll explain later]

Do you ever get that feeling as if you are being watched? I do lots of times.  
But do you know what is watching you? I do. Everything. From spirits, to God himself. When you are sensitive as I am. You see, feel, and hear things others can not. Some see it as a curse, others as a blessing. Myself it is fifty-fifty. 

Why you may ask? The fact is at times it helps me see not only good visions but also bad ones as well. Terrifying you are probably thinking to yourself. It is sometimes but after years you tend to find a way to block it out. You are probably asking yourselves who is this nut job, right? Its okay I'm used to it in this day and age.

Ghost planes are more believable than my tale.  
But then again it is the forties the only thing people believe is war.  
You are still thinking well who are you? Well dear people I am Aubrey Cynburleigh from Edinburgh, Scotland. 

I knew from the beginning I was different from my parents. My mother was a nurse and my father was a explorer both for the Royal Army. Because of their jobs we moved a lot. We lived in Edinburgh, Scotland for a few months, then moved to Dublin, Ireland when I turned one, finally we settled in London, England when I was two. We were happy and lived peacefully til I was four. 

Then the changes started. They thought it was just a cry for attention so they ignored it. Then by the time I was eight the changes took a turn for the worst. Everywhere I walked in the hospital the deceased would be revived and the wounded began to heal. 

Everyone was baffled, as was I. I tried explaining myself but they accused me of sorcery. As being a child of Satan. I told them I am not! The voices are real as are these strange occurrences. My parents also tried to reason with the town but they failed.

I was sent to an asylum in France when I was eight. I do not remember the name nor do I wish to. They dropped me off and I never got to say goodbye to them. That was the last time I would see them alive again, for the brutal war would take more from me than I ever thought possible. 

The letter came a year later telling me I was now property of the state and deemed unfit for society. They told me I was to endure my remaining life in the asylum. Trapped like a caged animal, and the darkness did nothing but feed my fears. 

The guards would take advantage of our weakened state some like myself were passed among them as if we were for their enjoyment and pleasure. The doctors ignored us and fed us more drugs to weaken us more. It worked just as they wanted and for me it heightened the voices. I ignored them everyday trying to block them out as best as I could. I was successful then it all changed.

One night back in 1951 on my nineteenth birthday I had vision telling me to leave for they are just poisoning my mind there is nothing wrong with me. To tell you the truth I was actually starting to believe I was indeed insane. Who in their right minds can hear voices if no one is around. I brushed off the voices.

An hour passed and yet again the same voice appeared again this time it was commanding me to listen. I was too scared to disobey it this time so I did as I was told. While everyone was asleep, without any planning and only with my wits to guide me I made my escape. 

After hours of running I finally found a bridge to rest under. I do not recall dosing off, but I was awoken by the rays of the rising sun. The beautiful sunrise, being in the city part of England you really can not see it due to all the buildings. In Dublin I could see it everyday, but nothing compared to this.

After being locked up for so long as if I were a wild beast this sunrise was a breath of fresh air to my dismal soul. It could not last I knew I had to journey further or else be found and dragged back to my cage. I made my way about a few miles away from Paris. I knew I was close to Paris. I could see the Eiffel Tower on the horizon. Maybe another few miles and I'll reach the outskirts.

Finally I made it to the outskirts just outside of the city.  Just a half hour before sunset. I made camp under another bridge and watched the beautiful night sky mixed with the colourful lights of Paris. I understand why its called the city of love, it has this alluring sense that will take your breath away.

I slept soundly that night, no nightmares of fires, bombings, war, or torture.  
I awoke by someone shaking me. My first instinct was that they have found me so I fought. I felt my fist connect with bone, and I was dropped on the ground. I heard the stranger yell a string of profanities in peculiar accent. I gathered my bearings and opened my eyes to see the scene before me.

The stranger was holding his nose to keep it from bleeding.  


[I broke his nose!?]

I was in shock, I have never fought anyone let alone broke their bones.  
Finally coming out of my state of shock I rushed over to the stranger.


	2. Theodosia Ianthe Athanasiadis

My name is Theodosia Ianthe Athanasiadis (gift from God purple flower from Athens) or that's what they called me. My family. I can't remember them very well but they were kind people very kind. It didn't last nothing good ever does in my life. The treacherous ocean saw to that, and I curse it to this day. 

They were my parents. Not my biological parents but they mind as well be. My real parents I never knew as far as I know they're deceased. No my real parents went down into the briny deep abyss along with that ship on that horrible day.

After the accident I was sent back to the ward I hated it so much. The superiors treated us as slaves. I was their favourite victim cause of my condition. Being different in a Catholic orphanage is like having a target painted on your back. 

They tortured me with homemade instruments they saw fit to cleanse me of my sins. They told me I was filthy and they must cleanse me before I infect the other children with my satanic ways. I was continuously dunked over and over again into a tub of ice water blessed with holy water, but nothing changed. Through the years I've become accustomed to my punishments. But still hated them. 

One day they left me under longer than usual. My body felt like there were knives being stabbed repeatedly into my skin. I couldn't scream, every time I tried the water entered my esophagus thus silencing my screams. I felt disoriented as if slipping away. My vision began to blur and then all that I saw was black. 

I came to later in the hospital beds used for the sick children. Still disoriented I wondered how I got here. The memories came flooding back with great force that I felt I'd faint. They tried to kill me the same way as they read about in their books. 

That was their answer to everything when it didn't go the way they wanted it would have to go. By any means necessary to be more clear. As if this were a business and not a orphanage. That was the day I started planning my escape.

We were always taken to town on Wednesdays. I was looking forward to this particular day for today will be my last day in this hell hole. While one of the superiors wasn't looking I made my escape. Stealthily moving like a fox in the woods careful not to make a sound. I reached a crowded street and blended in with the locals no one suspecting I wasn't one of them. All to busy with their own affairs or with a mind set on work instead. 

I found a sanctuary under a bridge. It wasn't clean but it was much more homelike than that wretched place. I lived under here comfortably for a few days only venturing out when necessities were needed. The cops began to search around near my home for someone. They carried papers asking locals if they've seen this runaway. My first thought was it was me so I left London and made my way South to Germany. 

I pretended to be a wandering gypsy to travel with an on the road show. They welcomed me with open arms. We made lots of money after every show and traveled to exotic places. That lasted for a year before the invasion started. We had to go into hiding or risk being captured. Only a few ventured out during these times, I was chosen to venture with them.

On a cold September morning a few brethren and my myself ventured out in search of supplies. We were gone for an hour and almost shot but did not return empty handed. Upon our arrival back home we were ambushed and my brethren were slaughtered before me. I dropped the supplies and ran towards their screams but were too late to rescue any of them. 

The soldiers hit me in the skull with the butt of his rifle. I fell to the snow which was now painted red by the blood of my fallen family. I wept for them, praying for their tortured souls. The soldiers ordered me to stop but I continued. They had seen enough and began hitting me with whatever they could find. I laid there beaten and bloody but still breathing. They thought I was dead or was good as dead for the wolves would definitely finish me off so they left me where I laid.

I woke again in a weird room covered in relics. The curtains were drawn. A candle was lit by my side place upon a table next to bed. I was stitched up though I still felt disoriented.@My head now throbbed and my muscles ached. The memories of the slaughtering played over and over in my head to the point I thought they would burst through my head. Tears were streaming down my face I've lost another family.


End file.
